Used To Be
by avalonchick5
Summary: Slightly Harry/Hermione, mostly Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny.  What was, isn't, and can never be. Comfort is just another word for temporary.


**Disclaimer:** Do not own anything you recognize from the Harry Potter series, neither books nor movies.

**Warning:** I'm not rating this M because it's not especially explicit, but there is a teeny **lemon** in there.

Pairings: Harry/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny

Enjoy!

~~*UsedToBe*~:~*UsedToBe*~~

She remembers when it used to be easy.

When all they needed was each other. When it was just three best friends at school. When they weren't running and hiding and scared all the time.

Because now they're stuck in a fucking tent, for Merlin's sake! They're trapped and cold and hungry (and pretty much desperate), fighting and worrying and praying that please, please, don't let me hear their names on the radio, not on the casualty list, please, please, _please_. They're in the middle of nowhere, a barren wilderness, staying away from the smallest sign that okay, we can't stay hidden forever. It's desperation and wild fear and dying hope that lets them push on, but it's not enough. She knows it's not enough, that it could never be enough, but she never thought they would be pushed to this, to threats and decision and desertion and _which one of us are you going to pick, Hermione_?

And she can't help but think that maybe she chose wrong, maybe she should've picked red hair and flaming temper and oh god, maybe she should've picked _love of her life_. And she knows Harry wouldn't begrudge her, she knows that he wouldn't blame her, because he's just selfless like that. But she promised that she wouldn't abandon him, she _knows_ this is the only way to bring He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (but that she names anyway) down, the only way to destroy him, and she knows that Harry will keep trying with or without them, so she stays, if only to protect her best friend, her brother. And all they have left is each other.

So she takes that obligatory cry, because, really, how could he do that to them, to _her_, how could he leave when he knows they're doing the best they can, when he knows this is the _only way_ to end it forever?

And Harry is (not very) tall, but he's strong and silent, her rock in the midst of all this confusion. He hugs her and dances with her and stops her tears for a little while, but they always start up again.

But one night, one lonely night, as she sits just outside the tent, keeping watch, he hands her a cup of steaming tea and drags her inside and sits her on his lap, wrapped in his comforter. And they sit silently, and drink hot tea, pushing away the cold and loneliness for an hour or two (because those mugs are huge). And she's drowsy, so she rests her head on his shoulder and (puzzlingly) she hears his breath quicken and his heart beat faster.

She looks up at him with sleepy but aware eyes and sucks in a breath when she meets his glowing green eyes, brighter than anything she's ever seen (except maybe a star). They swirl with indecision and shame and desire, and suddenly she knows what he's thinking and her cheeks blush pink as she thinks it too. Then she does the boldest thing she's ever done, and she takes his head in her hands and kisses his pink lips.

He freezes in shock and she nearly draws back, but suddenly she's warm because he's kissing her back, and his hands are in her hair and inside the comforter, and all she can hear and feel and smell and see is Harry, Harry, _Harry_. And then the comforter is on the floor and so are her grey jacket and red jumper and shirt and jeans – and so are her gloves and scarf – and her boots and socks are gone and suddenly they're on her bed, and all she's wearing is that black lingerie set that she doesn't remember packing but wears anyway because everything else is in the wash.

She looks down at him with heavily lidded eyes and sees he's only in his plaid boxers and doesn't have his glasses on, but he looks up at her with trust and aching desire anyway. She can't resist a quick kiss but he pulls her in, kissing her harder and desperately, and then, in a blur of color and motion and light, she's lying on her back with one leg over Harry's shoulder and the other around his waist and he's pounding into her roughly and fiercely and she's screaming his name in pain and pleasure as he throws her over the edge.

And then it's quiet and they cuddle together underneath the covers, smiling sleepily at each other. They know this is a just once thing, that they belong to other people, but they relish their time anyway, because she doesn't think it was wrong and neither does he.

((And when he, the red-headed open flame, comes back, they're back to normal, if more comfortable around each other. But when he, the dark-haired hero, occasionally sneaks a peek, well, she's not going to complain. She'll just repay him in kind.))

~~*UsedToBe*~:~*UsedToBe*~~

AN: The good, bad, and ugly are appreciated. Please review!

Love,

Avalon


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